My Little Bird
by Sherlockedmyheart
Summary: After years of misadventures and danger, John finds himself wanting a family but how can he start one with his reckless and irresponsible lover? But then a little bird gives him hope.


**My Little Bird**

The sunlight streamed through the small crack in the curtains, the golden-amber rays of morning light illuminating their bodies against the stark black backdrop of the bedroom.

With a contented sigh he forced his eyes to slowly open. They watered slightly as they swam back into focus. The rest of his senses returned to him in their own good time. As his mind struggled with the concept of getting up, long, dexterous and admirably skilled fingers slid across his chest, until they rested on his jaw line.

Dark curls nuzzled against his neck, gently tickling his jaw as small kisses were lazily planted against his collarbone. Long legs possessively wrapped around his own, drawing him closer.

John absently leaned over and kissed the top of the curls. "Is this a incentive for me not to get up?"

"Once again, John, your deductive skills have done you proud." Came the low baritone rumble from the sleepy detective.

"Don't get smart with me." His huffed good-naturedly as he crawled down the bed and into Sherlock's arms. Their lips touched briefly, as they were more content with simply placing their foreheads against one another.

"Why so…" John chose his words carefully. "…warm, this morning?"

"I thought you might enjoy my attention." He stated flatly, as if stating a scientific fact but John could see the truth glinting in those blue orbs.

Sometimes words mean nothing when the silence expresses the things one could or would possibly want to say. Sometimes, you needn't say anything or it to mean everything.

John would've given everything just to lay there in the younger man's arms but his eyes betrayed him by glancing at the clock and he inwardly groaned.

"I have to get up now."

Those apparently weren't the words that Sherlock wanted to hear because his hold on John had increased as his body tensed.

"As in right now."

Sherlock's body became all but rigid and his pale fingers dug into John, which was on the verge of being painful.

"Please, Sherlock…don't make this more gruelling than it already is. I don't want to go either but someone has to pay the rent for this place."

"You pay half."

"I've paid more than half for well over four months and you know it. Just because you won't take cases that, and I quote, 'are mentally degrading even for even a six-year-old.'"

"Well they are!"

"It's that or you'll have to go to Mycroft."

Sherlock winced violently at his brother's name and glare fiercely at John, all sleepiness forgotten.

"I told you never to mention _his _name in this bed. Ever."

John rolled his eyes. "Alright then, you're going to have to go to _him _because he won't just put money into your account and you know it. So it's your choice, 'mentally degrading' cases or you go to M-_him_."

"Can I think about it?"

A laugh rumbled low in John's chest. "Take all the time you need…but just make sure we're not broke by the time you reach that decision."

He planted a final kiss on Sherlock's hairline before prying himself out from the detective's death grip-like hold.

He padded around the room naked, all previous qualms about exposure having all been eradicated by last nights…_activities. _And, what very active activities they were indeed.

The only thing John still felt marginally self-conscious about was the scar on his shoulder. Well, scar was a little bit of an understatement, disfigurement was a bit more accurate. It was shaped like a web that was spread across his armpit to the base of his neck.

It was raised, standing out dramatically against his lightly freckled back with some veins protruding and throbbing an angry red colour. The transplanted skin that covered the original wound was shiny and rough.

It didn't hurt like it had a few years ago but it was still fairly sensitive to touch, John would twitch uncontrollably if he even brushed his fingers over it when he was getting dressed.

Sherlock had noted that fact, along with every shape, colour and measurement of the wound itself. He knew that was the one place John didn't like to be touched and he respected that...when he could afford to respect it, that is.

"Sherlock?" John said as he shifted through the pile of clothes on the floor.

"Hm?"

"Have you seen my dressing gown?"

"I believe it's in your room."

"Ah."

"Take mine, if you want."

"They don't fit me...we can't all be stick bloody thin." He muttered as he shoved his boxers on and pulled the shirt over his head. "I suppose that'll have to do. Don't want Mrs. Hudson to have a heart attack now do we?"

Sherlock frowned at John. It was the kind of frown where his eyebrows would almost meet and his nose would scrunch up and his mouth would form this thin line. It was the kind of frown that John adored.

"You've just ruined my view."

John's laugh as he buttoned up his shirt, even a small smile had formed on Sherlock's face.

"Sherlock, have you seen my –ah."

Sherlock held up John's brown corduroy trousers which were ever so innocently placed right next to Sherlock's side of the bed.

"I believe you disposed of them there last night." He stated as he chucked the trousers to John.

"Right…yes, I remember. I'm going to have a shower." He watched as the detective's eyes lit up in their sockets. "_Alone._" He clarified. "I'm late enough as it is, I don't need you holding me up for an other hour."

John sat on the edge of the bed to dig his shoes out from their hiding place under Sherlock's bed. He heard the sheets rustle behind him and a quick glance over his shoulder revealed that Sherlock had gotten up and was stretching languidly by the curtains.

John finally pulled his laced up loafers out from under the debris under Sherlock's bed just in time to see a stark naked Sherlock walk out of the bedroom. Moments later the crash of cutlery drifted up the stairs and there came a panicked 'Sherlock!'

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson. Just tea for me, please." Sherlock casually remarked.

John chuckled at the landlady-not-housekeeper's rather high pitched protests on Sherlock's state of undress.

After some deliberation on whether or not to calm the storm that was brewing downstairs he just decided to go for a shower. Mrs. Hudson's scolding grew louder as he reached the hallway but were silenced by the time he reached the bathroom.

He flicked the lock on before switching on the shower and undressing again, dumping his clothes in the wash basket Mrs. Hudson insist they had. Seven or eight minutes into John's shower, John made out the faint noise of rattling.

"Damn it." Sherlock growled before his footsteps echoed off down the hall and back to his bedroom.

John finished showering a few minutes later and quickly towel dried his hair. He wrapped a towel around his hips, exposing as much as possible without being exposing.

Well…he could at least have a little bit of fun with Sherlock's almost teenage sex hormones.

John half expected Sherlock to leap out at him as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom but the detective had somehow made himself scarce. Most likely due to the amount of earache he had received from an exceedingly annoyed landlady.

He made his way back to his own bedroom and dressed in what Sherlock would call 'exceedingly mundane' clothes and headed downstairs to face Mrs. Hudson who had more than likely reached the end of her tether.

He was right.

"That man, John. That _man!_ He has no shame, absolutely no shame, I tell you. He has no common decency either! Someone should teach that man a lesson, honestly this is ridiculous! That was not a sight I wanted to see on a Monday morning."

John made a mental note as he sat in his chair eating toast and jam watching Mrs. Hudson pace up and down the room, to pick up a bouquet of flowers and label it as if it was from Sherlock.

He finished his toast quickly and pecked Mrs. Hudson lightly on the cheek, which made the old woman blush. But her mood had picked up instantly.

"Oh go on," She laughed and playfully slapped him on the arm. "Get out of it. Off you go before you're unforgivably late."

Satisfied that he had put Mrs. Hudson back into a relatively good mood he slung his jacket on and headed for the stairs.

"I'm off now, Sherlock. I'll see you in a bit." He shouted up the stairs.

When there came no reply, John shrugged and set off to the surgery. He contemplated hiring a cab but the thought of his slightly rounded stomach gave him a good enough incentive to cut down on taxi rides.

It was about time he relied on his legs to get him to places, he didn't want to start looking like Mike Stamford. So, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked down Baker Street.

John still worked at the surgery that Sarah first hired him except Sarah left a couple of weeks after the incident with the Chinese circus and was apparently happily married in Hampshire.

Sarah had been replaced by a lady named Mary Morstan. Mary was surprisingly sympathetic to John's life as she was avid fan of his blog. Which John found oddly flattering.

Mary was undoubtedly a beautiful woman John would've asked her on a date in a heartbeat if it wasn't for his relationship with Sherlock. No one could or would ever replace Sherlock and John wouldn't change that for the world.

In the past John had often complimented Mary on her appearance as she always was immaculately dressed, not even a hair out of place. Mary had made an advance on John once…and he'd had to confess to her his relationship with Sherlock.

Instead of being repulsed or upset, she had simply smiled knowingly with an unmistakeable twinkle in her eyes; she lightly kissed him on the cheek and promised she wouldn't breathe a word to anyone.

Mary and John had been the closest of friends ever since.

John quickened his pace ever so slightly when he saw the time. If he wanted to avoid Mary telling him off then he knew he'd have to jog. Mary may have been his friend, but she was also his boss.

Thinking that exercise wouldn't do him any harm, John began to jog down the street until he reached the familiar sight of the surgery doors.

He was greeted by Mrs. Kingston, the receptionist, who replied in her loudest voice,

"Good morning, _Doctor Watson_, You are slightly later than we thought you'd be. Doctor Carlyle has been filling in for you."

John cringed as he had hoped to slip into his office without attracting too much unwanted attention but apparently that wasn't going to be the case because as if on cue Mary poked her head around the door.

"John, can I have a word with you in my office, please?" She flashed him a genuine smile before disappearing again.

John sighed, the glee in Mrs. Kingston's face was undeniable and John suddenly had the urge to ring the miserable cow's neck. Instead, John settled for shooting her an annoyed glance.

As John walked to Mary's office it reminded him of the time when he was sent to the Headmaster's room in comprehensive, he felt the same trepidation back then as he did now.

He knocked briefly before stepping into Mary's office. She was sat behind her desk and casually waved him into the seat opposite her and he lowered himself stiffly into the chair.

"Mary, I'm really sorry I'm late, I know it's not professional and I promise you it won't happen again."

Mary smiled kindly. "It's alright John, I know you have a good reason for why you're late."

John smiled awkwardly and cursed his inability to lie.

"No," Mary continued, pretending as if she hadn't seen John's painfully obvious reaction. "I just wanted to ask if everything was okay. Is it?"

"Yes, fine." He answered a little too quickly.

Mary leaned forward and rested her elbows against the desk. "I know it's none of my business, John but you know you can always talk to me about anything. How about we go out for lunch?"

John didn't actually feel as if he was in a position to say no, so he nodded and forced what was supposed to be a smile onto his lips. "That sounds wonderful."

"Good, I'll meet you outside at half one."

"Okay, I – um, right, well I'll see you in a bit."

John left the room and breathed a sigh of relief and headed towards his consulting room. He knew he was in for a very long day to say the least.

Half one couldn't come quick enough as John saw wave after wave of patients the majority having humdrum complaints like hay fever, warts and teenager's mothers asking about hormones. One man did come in with a dog bite which was the only real interesting development in the day.

John waved off the last patient and met Mary outside the corridor just as she was locking her study door.

"Well that was good timing." John said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible as he extended his arm to her.

"Excellent timing indeed, Doctor. Now tell me, John, where's the best place to get a bacon sarnie?" She said as she entwined her arm with John's.

"There's quite a nice café outside Hyde Park? What do you think? We could go for a stroll?"

"Sounds wonderful. You're paying."

John chuckled as they walked out of the surgery doors.

To the unassuming passerby Mary and John would've looked like the ideal couple, both (relatively) young and contented, smiling at each and laughing at each other's jokes but when they were really trying to read each other's silence.

Ever the gentleman, John did buy two bacon sarnies for the two of them and sat on a bench in Hyde Park.

"So...how's everything going with Sherlock?" Mary spoke between mouthfuls.

"Good, good, thank you."

"Nothing straining said relationship?"

"No…not yet." John meant it as a joke but the concern in Mary's eyes made it sure that she didn't take it that way. John turned away, letting an awkward silence envelop them.

A few moments later a middle aged man walked down the path in front of them, holding the hand of a very unsteady looking little boy. The child stared up at his father with adoration in his eyes as his father encouraged him to walk.

The father stumbled and tripped over a rock, he let go of the little boy's hand not to pull him over with him as he fell onto the gravel pathway. The little boy giggled shamelessly at his father's fall and still managed to keep himself upright.

The man got up and brushed himself down quickly before scooping the child up into his arms and tickling him with his nose. The father and son continued to walk down the path like this and the little boy's giggles could be heard for a long time after they had disappeared out of John's sight.

Mary scooted slightly closer to John in the hopes of following his line of sight. Once it clicked exactly what John was looking at, Mary smiled.

"Ah…I see…"

"Hm…?" He said absently, none too concerned at the fact that his bacon sarnie was dripping brown sauce onto his best corduroy trousers.

"I don't honestly know what the condition is called in men but I know what it is in women. It's the body clock. You want a child, don't you John?"

Calm hazel eyes met with startled blue.

"I don't-um…no, I mean…I don't-look, I couldn't possibly…"

"Of course you do. And in my opinion, you'd make an excellent father because you have a natural ability. So, the question is…what's stopping you?"

"I…"

"It's okay; I'll give you a couple of minutes to formulate words whilst I shove these in the bin." She took the sarnie out of John's hand and walked to the nearest bin.

John noticed the way her hips swayed almost seductively and how her elegantly shaped legs took long, graceful steps as she walked. The pale blue office dress hugged her shape perfectly and gave her the kind of curves that women would die for.

Those light chestnut curls fell down her back and glistened in the sunlight.

How could he have possibly turned her affections down?

But then he thought of Sherlock.

He thought of those dark brown curls and astounding blue eyes that saw everything. He thought of that lean, elegant body, those cheekbones and his beautiful porcelain skin and suddenly John forgot all about Mary.

It was when she plonked herself down next to him again did he realise that he had company.

"So go on, tell me." She elbowed him gently in the side.

"Oh, don't sit on the fence will you, Mary?" John said with a genuine smile.

"Would never dream of it. Now," She patted his knee. "Speak."

"I suppose…yes…I would like a child…one that's my own, you know…but…"

"What?"

"There are lots of other factors to consider you know, I mean, I'm forty now. I'm not exactly a spring chicken any more am I? How could I possibly cope with a child running around the place?"

"What about Sherlock? How does he feel about this?"

"Well for a start he doesn't know. Sherlock is…well Sherlock is Sherlock. End of, really. He's protective of the people he loves to the extent where he'll jump off a fucking building for them but I just don't think he could cope with a little one. Emotionally or physically."

"What do you mean 'emotionally'?"

"Well…Sherlock quite likes my attention…my _undivided attention_…and having a child would all but direct by attention away from him. I'm not saying that he's selfish but –"

"He'd see the child as a threat."

"Potentially. It's a possibility or that Sherlock might use the child as a social experiment of some sort."

"You really think he'd do that?" Mary had never met Sherlock and knew of him only of what John had written on his blog but her tone wasn't accusing, only curious.

"Well _no…_"

"Then there's your answer."

"It's not only that. It's our lifestyles as well. I _like_ the danger and excitement of cases and chasing criminals through the streets of London, our lives are in _danger_, Mary. And, that's no environment to bring a child up in."

John sighed and rubbed his head before continuing.

"Sherlock doesn't display much affection and a child needs that. I suspect that it may have something to do with his childhood but he hasn't told me. Until I know that Sherlock can care for another living creature wholeheartedly, if not unreservedly and devote his time, attention and _love_ to it then there's no way Sherlock and I could raise a child."

"Don't you think that you're a good example of that? I mean before you expressed that he was strictly a-sexual and now you're in a relationship with one another."

John smiled sadly. "The entire time we've been together we've never even said that we love each other."


End file.
